


Forgetting All We Couldn't Do Today

by Moro



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellarke, Canon Universe, Codependency, Comfort Sex, Complicated Relationships, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/M, I am really predictable, Mutual comforting, Nonverbal Communication, Partnership, Pet Names, Rough Sex, Trust, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, a lot of words about feelings, there are many kinds of love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 05:37:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13474785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moro/pseuds/Moro
Summary: It's been so long since Clarke and Bellamy could really be together.  A lot has happened while they were apart.  But none of that matters.They can find some comfort in each other.After all, the future is always uncertain.(set in mid season 3 but before the finale, it's just smut please don't worry too much about specific timing)





	Forgetting All We Couldn't Do Today

Clarke looked incredibly exhausted.  The weariness had soaked into her skin.  Indeed, she seemed to wear that exhaustion like a queen’s crown, settled into her dirty blonde hair, in the slight slope forward of her shoulders as she allowed herself a moment of rest, the deep shadows beneath her eyes.  It was something so much a part of her demeanor, he realized, that it would be more unusual if she did _not_ look worn-down and hollowed out inside.   _Could the others even tell?_ Bellamy wondered.

He stretched his shoulders, wincing at the dull, persistent ache that ran through his body.  The ache ran deep, like it reached underneath his skin, inside his bones, and he thought Clarke must feel very much the same.  Buried, beneath the collective weight the two of them carried.   _It's hard.  I know._

Clarke caught Bellamy’s gaze from the corner of her eye.  She thought Bellamy looked about as tired and worn as she felt, with shadows under his eyes as deep as her own, his thick wavy hair plastered to his head with days-old sweat and messy as always.  Smudges of dirt were visible on his freckled face where he had not completely washed it.

Bellamy noticed her looking back at him and came over and stood next to her.   _I’m here,_ said his hand gently coming to rest on hers.  She regarded him with an expression that might have held the possibility of a smile, submerged in layer upon layer of fatigue.  Bellamy returned the look.  No matter how tired Clarke looked, the reassurance he felt from her presence was immeasurable.  

Somehow, in spite of everything that transpired over the last few months, the two of them had slipped so comfortably into their old roles, that which they had grown into as leaders before the Ark survivors came to the ground.   _At least, I hope so._ It wasn't even a question anymore, it no longer mattered how long Clarke had been gone.   _We do belong together, don't we?_     

Neither of them spoke for several minutes.  Bellamy wanted to say _something_ , Clarke could tell, but she waited for him to speak on his own.  Then, Bellamy roughly cleared his throat, and murmured, “Clarke… you ok?”  

He reached out to touch her face gently and Clarke leaned into his hand, briefly closing her eyes.   _I didn't realize how much it **hurt** to be away from you until you were here again._

“I’m fine,” she answered quietly.  When she opened her eyes to look into his, he could see within, _I’m not.  Not yet._ Bellamy narrowed his gaze slightly.

“Clarke,” he said, “you can lie to yourself if you really want to.  But how about not lying to me.”  She glanced away briefly, still silent for several seconds, apparently thinking about what to say.  Whatever she was looking at was neither _here_ nor _now_.  

“I’ll be all right,” she answered, even more quietly than before.   _You’re right, I’m not, right now.  But I will be.  I have to be._ Finally she turned back to him, having done her best to shake off her melancholy feeling.   _I don't have the luxury of feeling sorry for myself._

Bellamy nodded.  “Good.”  He pushed a clump of her hair behind her ear and she smiled gently at him.  

“Hey, Bellamy.”  The pleading, needful look she gave him then was familiar, and he caught the meaning without having to ask.

“Yeah,” was all he said in reply.   _I know. Me too._  

It was hard to say how long it might be before they next had spare time, or comparative safety.  So, Clarke moved to lead Bellamy down the hall to a spare bedroom, and he followed without a second thought.

 

A long, slow sigh escaped Clarke as Bellamy pushed her against the wall, one strong arm wrapped around her waist, the other braced against the wall.  He buried his face against her neck, letting out a relaxed sigh of his own.  Clarke’s warm skin smelled of woodsmoke and dust and dried sweat, neither of them had bathed in days, but still it was _her_.  For the hundredth time he silently told her, _dammit, Clarke, I missed you so much._

Clarke threaded her fingers through Bellamy’s tangled dark hair and murmured only a single word, “ _please_.”  He shut his eyes and squeezed her more tightly, as though she might disappear if he did not hold onto her hard enough.  Clarke was _here._

“I’m not going anywhere,” Clarke murmured, sensing the feeling of urgency in Bellamy’s embrace.  He didn’t reply, only nodded.   _Please… **please** , Clarke, don't ever leave me again._

He slid his hand beneath her long heavy overcoat, unfastening one side of the chest harness and pushing it halfway off.  Clarke shrugged her shoulders and the coat slumped off her onto the floor, metal hardware and armor plates noisily clattering.

“I haven’t had a bath in a few days,” said Clarke apologetically.  “I’m probably disgusting.”

“No,” Bellamy murmured, his face still against her neck.  “You’re just right.”

She tugged on Bellamy’s jacket and he paused to take it off and drop it to the floor.  Her hands grasped for his shoulders and she pulled him back to her, placing a kiss to his neck, feeling the overworked muscles tensed there and beneath her hands, hard like steel beneath the warmth of his skin.  On his skin and in his hair she could smell the faint acrid remnant of spent gunpowder, a hint of ashes, and through it all, the metallic sharpness of blood.  Nothing particularly appealing in that mix, perhaps, but the familiarity of the scent was immensely comforting.  So, it was good.  

No matter what he had done, no matter what had happened in her absence… For right now, none of that was important.  She was here with him.  That was what really mattered.   _I'm so sorry I took so long to come back,_ she said silently, knowing he could feel it in her arms.

The leather armor Clarke was wearing—a corset originally, repurposed by Grounders into protection with bands of flexible metal—felt as hard and unyielding as Clarke's indomitable will as Bellamy pressed their bodies more closely together, pulling her head up, almost hesitantly, into a kiss.Clarke jolted for a fraction of a second, before returning the kiss with an eagerness he had not quite expected, surging towards him and opening her mouth to let his tongue brush against hers.  They tasted a hint of blood in each other’s mouths.   _Is that taste real, or will I just forever imagine it?_ When they released each other Clarke’s breaths came more shallowly, she murmured his name fervently, still so close to him her breath warmed his face, and he answered in nearly a whisper with her name before he kissed her again.  The tumultuous emotion poured out of him and into her, as he received hers, in turn, their shared burden, their shared suffering.  By its nature, inescapable… and something the others could never really understand.  The misery, guilt, self hatred… each of them carried it, but… they were together again and somehow that made it a little easier to bear.  

When they broke away from the kiss they remained close together, eyes still closed.  “Touch me, Bellamy,” Clarke whispered, without embarrassment. “Please.”  

Bellamy felt himself smile, just a little.  “I knew you’d ask,” he answered, “but I was going to do that regardless.”  Clarke said nothing, only giving a small smile of her own.   _Of course you were.  You can tell how much I need it, can’t you?_

He ran his hand down her waist, feeling for the small bit of exposed skin between the corset and her pants.  Clarke's breath caught in her throat at the touch, his hand felt hot on her skin, and she arched towards him, her breathing becoming heavier, faster.  Bellamy caressed her chest gently, feeling her react in those million small ways.  Clarke shivered against him, softly murmuring his name again.    

Bellamy looked her over, reached for the corset, realized he wasn’t entirely sure _how_ to undo it, and opted to wriggle his hand under her shirt instead, shoving the thin fabric aside to caress her breasts directly—Clarke moaned very softly as he touched her, her mind gradually beginning to clear of everything but what was happening at that moment.  Her heart beat faster beneath Bellamy’s hand.  He could feel the tension in every muscle in her body, the same as him, but as he caressed her chest and shoulders, then kneading steadily at the hard knot where her neck and shoulder met, her body began to relax, like a length of cord twisted too tightly being gradually slackened.  She sighed slowly, leaning against him, warmth and relief melting into her skin from his hands.

“That feels so _nice_ , Bellamy,” she murmured, and she sounded so _tired_ , showing such a rare level of vulnerability that it almost frightened him.  Feelings like hers, always blazing beneath the surface, openly laid raw to him… there was _nothing_ else like it.  His chest ached with emotion too complex to articulate.  But then, he always _had_ been better at showing his feelings with actions than with words.  

“Then this’ll feel even better,” he said huskily, and moved a hand between the two of them, pressing firmly between her legs and flexing his fingers slowly back and forth against her.  Clarke shivered again, another moan, a little louder this time.

“ _Bellamy,_ ah, nnh…”

“That’s right,” he whispered in return.  It was so, _so good_ to hear her say his name like _that_ again.

The pleasure that slowly rippled through her body with every motion of his fingers was a hundred times better than anything she had felt in weeks.    

“Don’t make me wait,” Clarke breathed, fixing Bellamy with that particular plaintive look, the one he could never refuse.  She leaned back against the wall, hitching one leg up to pull him closer to her.

“Of course,” Bellamy replied with a satisfied grin, unzipping her pants and reaching in, feeling blindly for the right spot—Clarke jolted and gasped as he found it, and moaned shakily as he moved his fingers in slow, firm circles, the spikes of pleasure much more pronounced with the direct touch.  It might have been a long time, but he had most certainly not forgotten _exactly_ the right way to touch her.

Bellamy watched Clarke as he touched her, trying to etch the details into his mind, how she looked with her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling rapidly, how warm she felt under his hand, the shivers that came over her, everything, _everything._ He leaned in to kiss her and Clarke leaned forward to meet him, moaning softly into his mouth, arching her hips toward his hand.  Clarke found herself struggling to speak before managing to get out “nnh, _more,_ Bellamy…”

Nodding, knowing what she wanted, Bellamy repositioned his hand again, and Clarke moaned gratefully as his fingers sank into her, her body welcoming him readily—

“ _Ah!_ Oh… ” Clarke gasped, her body trembling, as Bellamy moved his fingers in slow thrusts; his movement capacity was limited by the angle and her clothes but he could still move his hand well enough to draw just the right reaction from her.  Shallow thrusts, his fingertips curling inward and pressing against the soft place inside that felt different from the rest, pleasurable shocks racing up her spine and through her whole body, she _ached_ for it, like her body was primed to respond to him in a way it did not with others.

“ _Ah!_ —nh— _hnn_ , that’s so _good_ …” she moaned, her hips moving naturally towards his hand, holding tighter onto his shoulders, his fingers felt fucking _amazing_ — her legs began to shake, it was becoming more and more difficult to stay standing even leaning against the wall for support and she clung desperately to him, feeling herself getting wetter and wetter around his fingers.  “Ngh, _more_ , Bellamy—I want _you_ ,” she urged him.

“Bed, _now_ ,” Bellamy whispered harshly.  He withdrew his fingers slowly and Clarke practically whimpered at the loss, then she nodded quickly, pushing him backwards towards the bed—he backed up a few steps, stumbled at the edge, falling onto the bed on his back, grabbing onto her and pulling her down with him.  She ground her hips down against his and both of them gasped, Clarke already working to undo Bellamy’s belt.  He squirmed underneath her enough to fling his shirt off, as Clarke kicked off her boots as quickly as possible.  Bellamy ran his hand down from the back of her neck, down her spine, the small of her back, finally grabbing her pants and pulling until Clarke wiggled them off the rest of the way, underwear along with them.  Before he could do anything else she spat into one hand, and reached into Bellamy’s pants to pull out his cock.  

“Clarke—!”  He groaned softly, pleasure running through him from the sudden direct contact—it had been weeks since he had anything at all, and Clarke’s familiar touch was so wonderful—his hips moved up to meet her hand as she stroked him slowly, the movements irregular at first, then smoothing out into long, steady strokes that drew rough and shaky gasps from him.  

“Shit, Clarke, _hurry up_ ,” Bellamy hissed, and Clarke smiled confidently, looking down at him with so much warmth in the depths of her vivid blue eyes that it burned like the light of stars.  

“Yeah,” she replied affectionately, moving up and positioning herself—and Bellamy leaned up to meet her, grabbing her thighs and pulling her down onto his cock, moaning hoarsely as her warmth and tightness surrounded him.  

“Bellam—nh!” Clarke moaned shakily and dug her nails into Bellamy’s shoulder, shuddering as he sank into her down to the base, the stretch stinging slightly, it had been so long, _too long_ since she'd felt him like this—she gasped his name softly and felt him twitch inside her and it was all the hotter that he reacted to her voice that much.   _You need this just as much as I do, don’t you, Bellamy._  

“Nngh, _shit_ you feel so _good_ ,” Bellamy gasped, his voice surprisingly quiet, rough with raw feeling and desire.  His dark eyes shone with that fierce light; its intensity had been frightening, once, but there was nothing else like it.  There was _no one_ else, there could never _be_ anyone else, like Bellamy Blake.

“ _Ahhn_ , _Bellamy_ …”  She rode him slowly at first, closing her eyes and bracing her arms on either side of him, letting him move her body with his firm grip on her thighs, just feeling the way he filled and stretched her.   

“Nnh, Clarke…”  Bellamy smiled softly up at her, moving her up and down and rolling his hips up to meet her—Clarke moaned his name again, as he began to build a rhythm, thrusting steadily into her, but still somewhat slowly, savoring it, the warmth of her body, the sound of her shaky breathing and soft moans.  Clarke moved in time with him, heat and pleasure spreading through her body every time she sank back down onto his cock, and she naturally tried to move faster, but Bellamy’s firm hold on her limited her own movement.  The motions were more forward and back than up and down, hot and slowly thrusting inside, intermittent pressure on her clit that made her gasp and her legs tremble, but it wasn't enough—not hard enough, not _rough_ enough—  

“ _Ah—_ hey, let me go _faster_ , ahhn… ” she breathed, trying again to move more quickly—then he tightened his grip on her enough that she couldn't keep moving at all, grinning at her involuntary noise of frustration.

“Bellamy, _what_ are you—” she began, but Bellamy’s smirk forestalled her.

“Come on, ask for it _right_ , princess,” Bellamy teased, his voice breathy with pleasure and a hint of amusement.  

“I don’t think you’ve called me _that_ in a very long time,” Clarke murmured.  He so seldom used that old nickname, something he'd once sneered with derision, yet now between the two of them it carried much more meaning.  For him to call her that now was comforting; the name felt like an echo of a time when the world was so much _simpler_.  

“Well?  I'm waiting,” Bellamy added, his crooked grin widening even further, punctuating his words with a sudden upward thrust that pulled Clarke out of her momentary reverie and drew a sharp gasp from her.  She shot him a glare which was made completely unconvincing by the desire burning deep within her eyes.

“You’ve got some nerve.”  Clarke leaned forward, hands braced on the bed on either side of Bellamy’s head as she brought her face so close that her lips almost touched his.  He felt her soft smile.  “Bellamy, _fuck me,_ ” she whispered.

“ _That's_ what I wanted to hear,” Bellamy murmured, his voice almost a growl.  Then, he let go of her legs and gestured for her to get off him. “I want you under me then,” he said.

“Ordering me around?” she replied affectionately, and got up off him, kneeling on the bed and unfastening the _way too many_ hooks holding her corset-armor in place, throwing it to the side in a manner that suggested its continued presence offended her.  She stripped the worn dark shirt off quickly and looked over at Bellamy, whose dark eyes remained fixed on her.  Somehow, he never tired of looking at her.

“Mhm, that’s right, a little bit like old times,” said Bellamy casually, sitting up and moving behind her.  He wrapped his arms around her, brushed her disheveled hair out of his way and placed a kiss to her neck.  Clarke made a soft sound and leaned against him.

“Some things don’t change,” she said softly.  Bellamy held her more tightly, and then shoved her forcefully down to the bed.  Surprised, all Clarke got out was a slightly indignant “Hey!”

“That's better,” Bellamy purred, and Clarke felt rather than saw the grin on his face as he climbed on top of her, and then he grabbed one of her legs and sheathed himself inside her in one deep thrust and Clarke’s slightly startled yelp broke into a low moan as his cock hit _hard_ inside her—

“ _Ah—_ nh _, Bellamy_ —!” she moaned, a shudder running through her body, Bellamy’s name coming out as a shaky cry.  He pinned her underneath him, bracing his arms on either side of her, and Clarke arched her back to meet him, gasping at the sensation of him filling her completely. “Nh, _fuck_ …” she groaned, “It's been too long…”

“ _Mmnn_ , yeah…” Bellamy murmured, starting to thrust into her, closing his eyes and letting the sensation of her warmth and tight wetness around him and the sound of her moans wash over him.  Clarke closed her eyes too, her moans flowing freely as his cock slid in and out, hitting deep inside with every thrust, rubbing so wonderfully inside—she pulled her legs up towards herself, everything in her body and mind focused on, somehow, drawing him further into her, anything to get him closer, closer—

“ _Bellamy—_ ahhh, _hnn, harder_ …” Clarke gasped, and Bellamy made a sound a bit like a growl that became Clarke’s name as he pushed her down more firmly—he let his weight rest more heavily on her, fucking her so deeply that every time he sheathed himself fully in her, sparks flashed in the corners of her eyes at the impact and tears sprang to her eyes—

“Y, yeah, like that, aahh—hnn—!”   _Take everything away from me, don't let me think about anything but you and how you feel, don’t let me think.  Don’t let me think.  Push everything out except **you**._

Bellamy’s hand came to rest on Clarke’s, holding tightly.  

“Ngh, you're so _good…_ ” he murmured, voice strained with exertion.

“ _Bellamy—hn—_!”  Clarke’s grip white-knuckle hard on the sheets and her mouth hung slightly open with the effort it now took to breathe.  She could feel herself getting closer, the pleasure building inexorably like a rising wave that overwhelmed her senses moment by moment.  

“Nh—’m close, Bellamy—” Clarke gasped, reaching under herself with considerable effort and holding the palm of her hand firmly against her clit so that with every thrust it was pressed rhythmically, almost there, almost there—

_That’s it, come on Clarke, come for me, come for me, I want to hear you, I want to feel you—_

Clarke gave a cry higher and sharper than the moans she had been making before and Bellamy groaned as he felt her muscles spasming around his cock rapidly, not letting up the pace of his thrusts at all.  He’d already been getting close and now—

“Bellamy, pl, _please_ —” Clarke cried, struggling to form the words, ecstatic spasms still wracking her body—“ _in—me_ —”

“You’re— _damn_ _right_ —” Bellamy growled—“ _Clarke,_ I—” and he couldn’t finish speaking before he finally shot up and over that edge, coming suddenly and hard inside her, his hips jerking irregularly for several more seconds as the orgasm ran through his body.  

It was so good, it was _so_ good.

 

Chest heaving with exertion, Bellamy collapsed on top of Clarke, burying his face in her tangled mess of blond hair.  Clarke made a vague annoyed noise but made no attempt to move.  Moving seemed like way too much work anyway.  Finally, he rolled over, flopping onto the bed as he waited for his breathing to return to normal.  He glanced sidelong at Clarke, who looked back at him blearily.  She still looked tired, but her stress had been greatly softened.  There was a calm in her eyes that Bellamy hadn’t realized just how badly he missed until he finally saw it again.

“I’m going to be feeling _that_ tomorrow,” she complained, but she was smiling at him.  “You’re always so rough.”

Bellamy grinned without even a scrap of shame.  “I know what you need.”

“Mmn.  You do.”  She reached over to take his hand again, looking at the freckles dusting the back of it.  “I wish we had more time.”

“Yeah.  Me too,” he agreed.  “Hey, maybe we’ll get that someday.”  A warm, comfortable calm had settled over him like a soft blanket.  He held onto to the feeling as long as he could.

“Yeah,” Clarke answered.  She squeezed his hand tightly.  “But, you know… I’ll take as much as I can get.”

 


End file.
